Any Other Name
by Spud
Summary: It's a very strange POV story that's got some people bawling.


Any Other Name   
By Spud Wiseass 

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Rating: I'd give it a PG just because you might not see this in a Disney movie 

Disclaimers: Don't own anything, although I wish I did... 

Notes: This is what happens when Spud gets bored. The title is from listening to the song "Any Other Name" on the American Beauty soundtrack (it's the plastic bag song). It's a short story that I wrote when I was full of boredom and trying to get out of my writing slump.   


**Spoilers: all the episodes** 

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What do I remember? I remember Cold Springs, Uncle Peter's cabin. Fishing. Camera clicks. I remember everything. Was I supposed to? I looked down at myself and saw my feet. They were furry. I guess the Buddhists, Hindus, all of them were right. Reincarnation is real. I'm the living testament of it. I stood up from where I had been sleeping, a cardboard box in a dark alleyway. I stretched my body and slinked around the corner and onto the busy streets. I passed by a butcher's window, the slabs of meat making me nauseous. I had grown very picky about meat, the only thing I ever ate was baloney, and that was when I was a kid. I'm sure Darien would have a fit if he found out I didn't really like the stuff anymore. 

Darien. It's kinda odd, but I really miss him. We had shared so many moments in those few weeks at the compound in Mexico. What was I doing in Mexico? I don't even remember. But I remember laughing, talking, just watching each other and not needing to say anything. Aunt Celia used to call us Ebony and Ivory, two complete opposites. Darien the ladies' man, the thief; Kevin the scholar, the scientist. I remembered envying him sometimes. "Zimmerman!" I kept on walking as I heard a young girl yelling. "ZIMM!" she yelled again and grabbed me by the neck. "There you are!" 

I groaned inwardly. Her name was Nancy, a young Puerto Rican girl who enjoyed to torment me by dressing me up for her tea parties. Not now. I felt like I needed to be somewhere. 

"Zimmerman, we're going to have a lovely party today! Mr. Muffles promises to bring his wife and daughter. . ." 

She let loose my neck and I bolted. 

"ZIMM! COME BACK!" she yelled at me. I let the wind rush against my body as I crossed the street and into an alleyway. I knew she wouldn't cross the street for anything. Not even me. Entering the alley, I knew I had made a mistake. It was Terror's alley. In front of me he stood, ready to fight. I froze. He growled and showed his teeth. He was a pit-bull, with razor sharp teeth and a jaw that could probably snap my neck in two. Terror loved to pick fights. I knew I was going to die. 

He barked and charged, but I was ready. If I was going down, I'd be going down in a blaze of glory. Nicky the Alto's brother. Where did that come from? No matter, I didn't have time to recall as I bit down on Terror's left shoulder, tasting coppery blood. It dulled the sharp pain in my leg. I yelped in pain when it did register and jumped high, landing on Terror's back, sending him sprawling on the ground. I bit hard on his ear, making him yelp in pain and snap at my side. I fell and hit the ground with a thud. Terror was having trouble getting up from my attack, and I scrambled to stand up. I didn't care about the blood oozing from my body as I ran. 

Limping as I ran, I felt a pull to take me somewhere outside the city. It wasn't that far, but I had to limp some down a street and into a cemetery gate. I slinked back into the shadows of the tombstones, not wanting to be seen by anyone. I slowed down my pace and let my heartbeat try and return to normal. There were tire screeches and a short man ran into the cemetery, running to the back area. I just went on my way, heading for the familiar place. 

Coming to the tree, I heard voices. "Fawkes!" It was the short man that had spoken. 

Curious, I stayed behind the tree, but looked over to where the voices came from. My heart rate started to increase as I saw him. Darien. My brother. He was on his knees at the grave, his head lowered. He slowly stood up, and the short man put a hand on his shoulders from behind. I saw a silver tear cascade down his face. And then another. And another. "God, I miss him." Darien turned around and rested his head on the man's shoulder. The man seemed to be a little uneasy at the position he was in, but patted his back when he let out a sob. 

"I know. But it gets better. Trust me," the man reassured him. 

Darien sniffled. "How do you know, Hobbes?" he asked in a pathetic attempt to be angry. 

"Wife number two." 

The tears stopped being so intense and he lifted his head up and stood by Hobbes' side. "How did it happen?" 

"Kinda the same way your brother. She was going home when someone popped her. Never caught the perp," he said sadly. 

"I'm sorry." 

"Don't be. We're even." Darien only weakly nodded to Hobbes. 

I remember a door opening. A gun pointed straight for him. No! He can't die! I won't let him! I pushed Darien away from me. A whimper escape as I saw the terror in Darien's eyes as we saw the gun. 

Darien looked away from Hobbes at the sound of my whimper. "Look, a dog," he said to Hobbes, pointing to me. He bent back down to the ground, making eye contact with me. "Hey there. Come here, I won't hurt you," he beckoned me, clicking his tongue. 

I know he'd never hurt me. Slowly I limped out of the tree's hiding place and a look of concern came to his face. Hobbes came to stand next to him. "He's hurt," Hobbes remarked. 

"I know," Darien said. "Come here," he said to me again, not wanting to run over to me. I limped on, every part of my body in agonizing pain. Halfway to him, I collapsed, my legs giving way. Darien immediately ran over to where I was and knelt down beside me. Hobbes came to. 

"Looks like he was in a fight," he commented as he pointed to Terror's signatures.   
  
Darien took off his black leather jacket and put it underneath me. Carefully, he scooped me up, and I realized that I was a large dog. Not too big, but enough to where I hung from Darien's arms. 

* * *

I didn't become aware again until I realized I was inside a nice smelling place. Lifting my head to look around, I saw that it was a studio apartment. My leg and side was wrapped in gauze, and I didn't hurt anymore. Slowly getting up to my feet, I saw Darien sitting on a wooden chair, fast asleep. He had his head resting on his arm, much like any kid would do in a boring classroom. 

I let my front paws hit the top of the table, and I was able to see the whole tabletop. It was covered in pictures. Looking closely, I saw that they were of me and him. More of me. There was the fishing incident, where I had caught a big one, and Darien in a fit of jealousy had thrown it back. Then there was the one where I was busy reading a book and Darien snuck up behind me with a water hose. I was so mad at him. He just laughed and I missed my place. His ass was gonna be grass. When I had tackled him to the ground, it just turned into playful wrestling. Like brothers should be. There was another one of the lab. 

I now remember it all. He was always smarter than me. I remembered his eyes when he saw me dying. My last words hitting him in the deepest part of his soul. The memories of brotherhood lost in arguments and jail bonds. Why had we parted ways? Especially when Uncle Peter died. Why did we just stick Aunt Celia in a home? We just abandoned our childhood like an overused toy. I whined at the regrets I had. Darien finally stirred and opened his eyes, face to face with my blue ones. 

"Looks like someone decided to come back to reality," he said to me. He reached over and affectionately rubbed my soft brown fur. 

He sat up and stretched himself, a few vertebrae popping back into place. That's when I noticed something. Another pile of pictures caught my eye, and they were right beside Darien. He looked over at me as I stared intently at the pile. He patted his legs, and instinctively I jumped up into his lap. "So you wanna know what these are?" he asked as he picked up the pile. The first one was of a young blonde woman bending over a microscope. She had been looking into it and had stood up to brush her hair back, capturing a photograph speaking volumes. "That there is my Keeper. She's kinda like a vet, giving me shots every now and then and making sure I don't get too much in trouble," he flipped away the picture and there was one of the man at the cemetery. Hobbes. "That's my partner Hobbes. Wacky Lithium Bob," he chuckled at the nickname and went on, showing me pictures of his co-workers. 

Inwardly I smiled. He did have family to take care of him. 

"So, what about giving you a name?" 

I stood up in his lap, making him squirm at the shift in weight. Putting my front paws on the table, I looked around and spotted a picture of me. I was in the hallways of the lab in Mexico. I was making a gland. I put it in my own brother's head. How could I do such a thing? He was going to be put in Bakersfield. Of course I had to do something. I put my paw on the photo. 

Darien reached over and picked up the photo. "That's my brother Kevin." I got off the table and went back to his lap and looked intensely into his eyes. "I. . . he died in my arms." I leaned my head forward and licked him on the face. "Ugh! Doggie spit!" he laughed as I kept it going, wanting him to know I was there. "All right! Your name is Kevin!" he laughed. "Sheesh, you're almost as pushy as him." 

My tail wagged as he ruffled my neck and looked at me with a smile. "Come on Kev, I'll bet you're hungry," he said and stood up as I got off, heading for the kitchen.   


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End file.
